


Fogging Up The Mirror

by KatyTheInspiredWorkaholic



Series: Katy's RWG Bingo submissions [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Daryl, Explicit Sexual Content, I don't really know what this is, M/M, Mirrors, No Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rickyl Writers' Group, Rickyl Writers' Group Bingo 2016, Season 4A, Smut, Top Rick, but not really, the lightest bit of sub/dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatyTheInspiredWorkaholic/pseuds/KatyTheInspiredWorkaholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rickyl Writers' Group BINGO 2016: Mirrors</p><p>Rick wants to show Daryl something, and it'd really help if Daryl would stop going cross-eyed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fogging Up The Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> This is legit just porn, I was writing some super gory stuff in my other story and needed a break, so I thought I'd tack off another box for Rickyl BINGO. IDK what I just wrote, but that's how I feel about all my smut stories, so I actually spent a few days coming back and re-reading this. Still don't know how it came about, but it was fun to write. No beta again, enjoy :)

\--

“Look at you,” Rick’s voice was low, appraising and rough – like the words were being drug over gravel, and Daryl could feel the rumble of the deep tones in his _bones_. They vibrated against his skin, sending tremors through every strained muscle as he worked to hold himself upright, hands slick was sweat and perspiration and pre-cum as he held as tight as he could to the old porcelain sinks by the prison showers. And despite how he’d had his head down this whole time, sometimes leaned so far over that he pressed his forehead against the cool glass hung on the wall, wet mouth open and panting so hard his breath fogged up the reflection it could have left – when Rick told him to look, he couldn’t help cutting a glance into the mirror. 

He looked a mess. Daryl was use to that, he was always a mess, but this was different than what he usually saw staring back at him in the rust-stained bathroom mirrors. He was _wrecked_ , dirt smudged face flushed red, a flush that crossed his nose and cheeks, and trailed down his neck and across his chest beneath the leather winged vest. Long, stringy hair so caught up in the humidity from the showers and how many times Rick had ran his fingers through it that any semblance that he wasn’t being _fucked out of his mind_ had long sense been ruined. His eyes were so blown black it eclipsed the pale blue irises that cut like glass, or melted like ice depending on who he was looking at. Broad shoulders jutted and accented by his vest were the only other visible part of him, outlined by Rick’s figure behind him, and in comparison to the man who had him bent over the sinks like a dime-corner hooker Daryl had no idea what Rick was wanting him to see. Or what he even saw in him that made him want to do such things, such _filthy_ fucking things, to a man like Daryl Dixon. But God if Daryl wasn’t willing to let him.

Daryl had been mesmerized by his own reflection for only a moment, before those thoughts crossed his mind and he was about to look away, but Rick surged forward – driving deeper inside of him – to reach a strong arm around and push back on Daryl’s chest and neck until he raised his head again, upper body bent back until they were flush against each other. “No – look,” Rick growled out, kiss-swollen lips speaking against Daryl’s ear he was pressed so close, and Daryl could feel every _inch_ of him. From his heaving chest, heated and solid as a brick wall beneath the farmer’s tan, to his thick cock filling him up so fully Daryl’s head spun. He was trying to make a point, make Daryl see something– and fuck if Daryl tried, but Rick driving his cock so hard inside him like that made his vision go blurry. Right against his prostate, the fucker, and he knew he was doing it too. The building pressure inside him so blinding with pleasure that he couldn’t catch his breath, a sharp inhale all he could grasp. His chest heaved, visibly in the reflection, with nothing on under his cutte he could see the movement from his collarbones and pecs, how his rib cage moved with the expansion of his lungs, his abs shadowed in obscene outlines beneath the scarred skin and sweat, the v of his hips cut off by the sink but his rock hard cock throbbed so heavily he didn’t need to see it. 

And when Rick rolled his hips he saw that too, saw and felt the thrust that shot pleasure through every nerve ending, his whole body arching at the motion. The wave of rapture crushing through him like a tidal wave, ecstasy so bright he was seeing spotted colours. But the literal roll of his body, hips to chest to head thrown back onto Rick’s shoulder in reaction to the thrust was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. 

“See,” Rick panted, so quiet and low, repeating the motion and this time Daryl did see – how his own face broke with each thrust, the bliss that crossed his features and soothed away every trace of life outside of the euphoria he felt in that moment. The blood, the grime, the scum of his old life ripped away and tossed aside. For an instance the pain was turned to bliss, the need for survival to archaic want, and every fucking bit of fear and worry for what was going on around them disappeared. Like the world had never ended. Except, Daryl didn’t think he’d ever looked like that – felt like that – back when the world was still whole. And each thrust chased those thoughts away too, until the only thing in his head was blinding hot pleasure, frenzied arousal buzzing through every nerve ending, and the rough primal pressure of each thrust. And Rick, Rick, _Rick_.

“Rick,” it slipped past his lips, still open and panting – and the sound was a growl and a whine and something new altogether that sounded a whole lot like _begging_. And Daryl Dixon didn’t _beg_ , but there was no mistaking the pleading tone for Rick to keep moving, to push them both over the edge that Daryl was grasping by the smallest bloodied thread. He was about to lose his damn mind if the building pressure inside him didn’t reach its peak – soon – and he wasn’t above killing something in his madness. His beg turned to a growl, deep and wild and snared in his chest, grinding back until Rick loosened his grip so he could lean forward to gain better leverage, hips rotating until he was fucking himself in tandem with Rick’s thrusts. 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Rick gasped out, not letting up on his hold on Daryl’s shoulders to keep his head up, keep watching as Rick fucked him harder. Daryl braced himself with one hand back on the sink and the other on the wall, once again bent over the crumbling porcelain – but this time able to still see himself. And that obscenity must have driven Rick mad because as he slammed into Daryl with reckless abandon, Daryl had to brace himself with his whole forearm against the mirror, able to see his own face as each thrust flashed pain and pleasure across his features like splatters of paint on a canvas. Watched as he slowly slipped into the trembling wrecked out mess of a man that Rick Grimes loved to reduce him to, pleading and whimpering and struggling to breathe as he moved with Rick’s powerful thrusts, chasing his orgasm with every ounce of coiled strength in his body. 

He came without Rick even touching him, without touching _himself_ – needing both hands and arms to hold himself up and rock back to meet the other man’s movements, fucking himself on Rick’s cock with each thrust. It didn’t matter that he had once again pressed his head against the mirror and could no longer see himself when he came undone. With a cry that was volumes of hedonistic and feral, mouth dripping wet because he hadn’t had the chance to _swallow_ let alone breathe correctly, his vision blacked out so vividly it flashed white, wave after wave of orgasm flowing through him like electric currents as Rick fucked him through it. Then Rick came too, the growl punctuated with a bite that had Daryl shouting in shock and slamming him back into the moment so he could _feel_ Rick come deep inside him.

Then hands were on his shoulders, gentler than before, pulling him back flush against Rick’s chest again, the older man still buried deep. Daryl’s breath had fogged up the mirror, but even he could see the boneless slump, the sweat sheen, the way his whole body molded back to fit to Rick’s perfectly. Like that was where he belonged, like they were made for each other. And Daryl could barely breathe, still heaving for air, but the hum of contentment that he felt in Rick’s chest helped ease the strain. And he was surprised to see the small upturn of his lips with the huff of caged laughter, in response to Rick’s happy sounds held deep in his chest like a purr. 

He looked happy, and Daryl had never seen himself happy, it was only for the briefest of moments before the surprise took over his features. Rick’s smile was pressed to his skin as he kissed at the bite on Daryl’s shoulder, so utterly pleased with himself – in far too many ways for the man’s ego to handle – that Daryl had to huff again, this time with less humor, and harshly elbow the older man in the stomach. 

It did nothing to hinder the wide grin on Rick’s face.


End file.
